7. Day 261

She woke with her cheek pressed to his back, her arm under his and her hand on his chest. There had be a few times Pam had woken up in this position in the last couple months, but every time she rolled away, pretending she was still half asleep. This morning though she tightened her grip and pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade more firmly, she didn't want Jim waking up thinking he was alone again. It also helped keep her warm, even with several sweaters on the air was much too cold.

It was cold two mornings ago, but she didn't realize because when she woke Jim was right there, his deep breaths warm on her cheek. She turned her head slightly to watch him, his eyes moving fast under his eyelids. They never talked about their dreams but she suspected his were more often nightmares, she used to see him from the couch waking suddenly, sitting up and looking around with heavy breaths. But his dreams must have been more peaceful in past weeks. Even with the facial hair, he looked so much younger when he slept and she smiled imagining him as a boy, with floppy hair and jug ears and buck teeth.

But then the pang in her lower abdomen that she had been trying to ignore got stronger and she groaned to herself as she rolled out of the bed. There was one thing about all the monster and post-apocalyptic movies she had seen in her life: they mostly omitted the matter of going to the bathroom. When it was still warm she just held it and went outside first thing in the morning, but with the cold mornings and snow on the ground they used bedpans on top of the cabin toilet. She flipped on the small, battery powered night light in the bathroom and grabbed her pan. It should have awkward, the day they were on a supply run and Pam suggested they each bring home a pan, but Jim only made her nearly laugh by trying really hard to convince her to grab the pink one. Ultimately she went with blue. She urinated as quietly as possible, set her pan down behind the toilet and washed her hands with the diluted soap and water they kept by the sink. Looking in the mirror, Pam patted down her hair a bit and studied her reflection. She was never big on makeup but still kind of wished she had a little mascara and lip-gloss, brighten up her pale reflection. The portrait she drew of herself at Jim's request was more of a challenge than she thought. Drawing Jim was fun, he had those amazingly expressive eyes and the best smile she had ever seen. But trying to draw herself, she kept coming across as looking tired or worried.

"NO!" The scream almost didn't register as real. The voice was unfamiliar and she couldn't believe Jim could possibly make that noise. But when she turned the corner, there he was sitting straight up, desperately throwing back the covers and crying "no" again and again. She touched his shoulder and told him he was okay, assuming he had a bad dream about the death of his sister perhaps. But the way he looked at her then pulled her to him and whispered "you're still here" in her ear made the tears come to her own eyes quickly.

Neither of them thought about the obvious, that his scream of course attracted a silencer, but they were hopeful when it did come and destroyed the creaking porch that it was satisfied and left. But a crash of a picture frame and two loud booms at the door later, there it stood. It turned its head, the plates around its ears shifting and expanding. When it took a step it was right in the middle of the shattered glass from the frame, and like when it make a creak outside, it started thrashing at the floor. The creature moved so erratically that several things rattled in the kitchen and it turned it's attention to the shelves that were carefully stocked with their food cans and neatly stacked dishes. Pam was frozen in terror, covering her mouth and watching as it obliterated the kitchen shelves and the countertop. Jim's hand squeezed her shoulder and she turned to him. He had his hands palm down, moving away from each other. "Get on the floor," he signed, before rolling away and disappearing on his side of the bed. He lifted his head and motioned again to the floor and she nodded, somehow crawling off the bed despite her trembling.

While the silencer continued to attacked every thing that fell and made a new noise, Jim crawled over to where Pam was curled up on the floor between the bed and the wall. She could see in the moonlight he had several fireworks in his hands, a batch they kept on the night stand. He put a butane lighter and a couple small disks into her hands. "On my signal, light one and throw it right at the window," Jim signed. "If the window doesn't break, throw another."

Pam shook her head and dropped her pointer finger onto the other. "I can't."

"You can," he mouthed. He started to stand and Pam grabbed his arm, shaking her head. He smiled slightly, though his eyes were stilled worried. "You can," he mouthed once again. Pam dropped her hands and Jim took a couple slow, careful steps towards the kitchen where the silencer continued to attack the wobbly kitchen table. He turned to Pam and lifted his hands, pinkies and thumbs out, and watched the creature until it stopped moving. Pam held a disk in right hand and the lighter in her left. She was shaking so bad she didn't know how she was keeping a hold of them.

Jim dropped his hand, "Now!" It took one flick to get a flame and she lit the fuse. It hissed in her hand, catching the silencer's attention. She stood on her knees and threw it at the large living room window, unable to believe she actually got it on the sill. The firework started whistling and sparking and the silencer clamored over the couch and coffee table and all but threw itself at the window. Pam watched Jim continue into the living room and squat behind the couch as the silencer ferociously attacked the little disc. But when the firework went out, the window was only cracked, and Pam lit the lighter once more. She managed to catch the fuse of the second disc and throw it, and this time when the silencer attacked it, it was accompanied by a shatter.

Up on his knees, Jim's head was above the back of the couch and he flicked his lighter. In his other hand, a rocket style firework on a stick meant to be in the ground. He lit the fuse of a firework and it sparked, much louder than the discs, and Pam nearly screamed when the creature lifted it head and turned to faced Jim. But as it took a step, the firework flew past it's head and out the window, whistling loud before exploding. The silencer immediately turned to the explosion and jumped out the opening. Another rocket firework in hand, Jim stood up from behind the couch and walked towards the window. It's out of here, what are you doing? Pam wanted to shout, but just watched in horrified silence while Jim lit up the other firework, it's loud sparking fuse sure to attracted the monster right back inside. The fireworks took off and exploded much further away from the cabin than the first one, and Pam could hear the monster crashing into the woods. The squawking of a flock of birds that it disturbed lured the silencer even further away.

Pam got to her feet and as quickly as possible she crossed the room to where Jim stood. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged tightly, and he returned her embrace, resting his cheek on her head. Still holding on to him, Pam looked around the cabin. The kitchen was destroyed, claw-marks in the counter and sink, the table sliced in two. Pam lifted her head and could see Jim also assessing the damage, a breeze coming through the shattered window caused them both to shiver. He dropped his arms to start signing, "We need to leave now." Pam nodded and Jim turned to head to the shelves near the bed. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes and started slipping a sweater and pants over his pajamas, and Pam walked over to do the same. She carefully walked to the front where her backpack sat. They had been preparing for a day like this for a long time, so her pack had most everything she needed in it plus her sketchbook and watercolors. While she made sure everything was zipped and secured, she watched Jim tiptoe through the kitchen and stand before her calendar. Despite all the thrashing from the silencer, it was still on the wall and Jim carefully took it down and walked to his backpack, and Pam smiled and faced away, wrapping her scarf around her blushing cheeks.

Peeking out the door, their next challenge was clear - how to get to the ground without making any noise. Jim assessed the damaged porch, splintered and bowed on the one side and turned to Pam to sign. "I'll shimmy along the outside and jump down, you toss me our bags and do the same." Pam nodded reluctantly, and kept a lighter and rocket firework in her hand while he shuffled along the outside of the cabin. He got down quietly, and Pam was able to swing and toss their backpacks to him with just a muffled whoosh. He stood at the end of the non-destroyed side of the porch as she shimmed along the beam closest to the cabin, and after she swung her legs over and was standing on the outside of the railing, his hands were on her waist, hers were on his shoulders and he was able to gently guide her to the ground.

Once her feet touched the dirt, she looked up and was very aware how close they were. She looked at the corner of his half-smile and thought about placing her own lips right there, wondering how his beard would feel on her cheek, how his mouth would respond to hers. But she just smiled and dropped her hands from his shoulders and motioned to the shed, "We should get a couple things from the tackle box." His smile faded a little before he nodded.


Pam waited until everyone had been in bed for an hour before she tip-toed through the lake house to the living room. She pulled a letter from her pocket and set it up on the mantle above the fireplace, hopefully enough in view to be found easily but out of view enough to go unnoticed until long after they woke up.

It had been two weeks since Roy was killed. Bringing his body back to the lakehouse was far too risky so Matt and Kenny went back to Mt Pocono to move Roy to the nearest patch of earth and buried him in a shallow grave. Pam painted his name and his birth and death dates on a cross that they put up in a shady area near the shore. Trish signed a eulogy and they all cried silent tears and left wildflowers at the base of the cross. Then everyone came to Pam one-by-one and hugged her, signing how sorry they were for her loss, how much Roy loved her and she loved him, how it was such a shame Roy was taken before Pam's life with him truly began. For two weeks they treated her like glass, congratulated her on how well she was handling things, making sure they never said a cross thing about Roy, always asking how she was feeling. And the tears would well in her eyes and she would excuse herself to her room to cry, not out of sadness or grief, but rather out of the horrible guilt that everything they all thought about her and Roy was a lie.

Lying next to Roy she often mused about leaving, how difficult it would be and where she would go. It was easy enough to find food cans, and now that she successfully could fish on her own she really only needed to find shelter near some water. But what was once just midnight thoughts of an exhausted brain was becoming a serious plan and while everyone was sleeping she started putting together her pack of supplies and map out possible routes to take. But the decision came today, when Roy's mother was grabbing something from the shelf and a little square floated to the floor. It was an old school photo of Roy, his hair blonde, his eyes bright blue and his smile big with a couple front teeth missing. With a trembling hand Susan picked up the photos and Pam quickly helped her to the couch and put her arm around her shoulder.

"He was so adorable," Susan signed, "I think he figured out how charming he was with those eyes and dimples at about five years old."

Pam smiled, she knew she was certainly taken in by his sky blue eyes and dimpled smile. It's what persuaded her to give him a second chance after he left her stranded at the Wilkes-Barre ice rink on their first date. It was persuaded her to give him lots of second chances.

Susan turned to Pam. "You were so good to my boy," she said, taking Pam's hand and squeezing. "So, so good."

Pam kept on her smiled for as long as she could, and once Susan let go of her hand, Pam was up and rushing to her room. She fumbled for a piece of notepaper and started writing a note. She kept it simple and vague, thanking them for keeping her safe, for their condolences when Roy died, but it was simply too painful to stay. She finished off with a request they don't follow her, instead focus on taking care and loving each other. And in the post script she added a couple tips for catching nice meaty walleye in the lage.

She closed the front door behind her slowly, and looked ahead to the curvy street to the main road. But she turned to the lake, and chewed her lip while walking towards the trees by the shore. "I hate to do this to them," she signed when she approached the cross, "but I can't stay. My biggest regret is I wasn't honest with you, that was unfair to both of us. But I'll always care about you." She kissed her fingers and pressed it to his name. Good-bye, she said silently.

But then a light was behind her and she turned to see a figure approaching. It was Trish. She set the lantern in her hand at her feet and started signing to Pam, "What's going on?"

"I just came out here to star-gaze," Pam replied with a smile. She saw Trish's eyes travel over her shoulder to her full backpack. "I was going to go to the other side of the lake and wanted to be prepared."

"And you left this because...?" Trish pulled an envelope out of her pocket, "Anderson's" written in her cursive.

Pam's shoulders dropped and she sighed, her eyes darting between the letter and Trish's unreadable face. "I don't know," she signed finally.

Trish bit her lip and stuffed the envelope back in her pocket, "I'm not going to try to stop you." Pam jerked her head up and met Trish's blue eyes. "I just hope that you'll tell me why before you go."

Pam started twisting her fingers together, fussing with the large band on her ring finger. "I do actually know right where my ring is," Pam said.

"Let me guess, it's not in my bathroom."

Pam shook her head, "It's on our kitchen table. On top of note to Roy that's similar to the note in your pocket." She sniffed, "I had been planning to leave for months, and the day I got the courage the world ended."

Trish took a few deep breaths and then smiled a little, "Look, I loved my little brother, he was so funny, the life of the party when he wanted to be. He was also a self-centered jackass." Pam's eyes widened and Trish shrugged, "I understand why you need to go. I'll keep everyone from finding out as long as I can."

Pam smiled and nodded, and put her index finger on her chin. "I'll miss you."

Trish stepped forward and pulled Pam into an embrace, and when they parted tears were in both their eyes. Trish crossed her arms over her chest, "I love you. Please be safe."

"I love you too, thank you." Her legs and her heart didn't want move but she forced herself anyway, only letting herself turn back once. Illuminated by her lantern, Trish just smiled and gave Pam a wave before turning and walking to the house.


The sun was rising once Jim and Pam had reached their emergency stash a hundred yards from the cabin. They topped off their backpacks with some more food cans, first aid supplies and whatever clothes would fit. Pam bit her lip watching Jim look up at the hill where the cabin sat, but he turned back to her and smiled and they set off on their way. They joined up with the trail to the main road and stopped in front of the drug store. "Just need one thing," Jim signed walking in. He was out a moment later with a road map of eastern Pennsylvania and a topographic map of the Poconos. With the maps in his hand, he awkwardly asked Pam if she needed anything else. Pam shook her head and they started down the road.